


Slow Hands

by tinknevertalks



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Multi, No tags - don't want to spoil the surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 02:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20202067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinknevertalks/pseuds/tinknevertalks
Summary: Abby needs a shower.





	Slow Hands

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for Avery, who asked, very politely, _just gonna kindly suggest that if any seem like something you'd want to write some helen/abby for,, ,, , pleas e_. This is my first published femslash that goes further than a kiss so please be gentle (unless we're on, "Omg biiiiitch whaaaaaaaaaaat!" terms... So I think most of you are ok. XD) Unbeta'd. Any mistakes please let me know.
> 
> Enjoy! :D
> 
> (And yes, this is titled after the Niall Horan song but has nothing to do with it. It was just on one day as I was writing this and I made a note on my Google Docs file of this fic to remind me to download it. Have yet downloaded the song but it keeps playing in my head so win?)

Another night, another round of boring, unsatisfying, missionary sex. Abby was drowning in a sea of grunts and groans that sounded almost rehearsed, wanting something more. A change of position would be nice, riding Will for an orgasm or two before he finally took the reins and suffocated her with plain old missionary. The Will from before the Sanctuary's destruction had been vibrant, vivacious, adventurous (she still blushed remembering how he'd bent her over a desk after a close call, the two of them barely having the time to move the necessary clothes before he was in her and thrusting as if his life depended on it) but recently? No hint of that man.

Even now, as her body responded to his ministrations (although he pawed at her breasts like a school boy at prom - a habit she still hadn't broken), her mind was floating ideas past her that did more for her arousal than his breath on her neck.

"Abigail, before we begin, are you comfortable?" Helen asked, stroking her face, her thumb brushing Abby's lips.

Pulling at her bindings, watching the cuffs around the bedposts shake, Abby looked at her again and nodded. "Really comfortable." Bound spread eagle, and as naked as she could be save the blindfold about to obscure her vision, she'd never felt more free.

"Tell me, Miss Corrigan--" a frisson of delight sped down Abby's spine as Helen's dulcet English tones caressed her name, "-- was that good for you too, babe?"

Abby blinked, Magnus' voice all wrong. Opening her eyes, she saw Will collapsed next to her, panting, his boxers back on. Her skin was quickly cooling in the aftermath, some vague recollection of a dull orgasm at the furthest reaches of her short term memory. Her only consolation was that he'd used a condom, so that tell tale drip of ejaculate wouldn't be wrecking her panties.

"Abby, are you ok? Are **we** ok?" he asked, rising to rest his head on his hand as he looked at her. From nowhere came the strongest urge to have the hottest, longest shower ever.

Instead, she just smiled, busying herself with finding her clothes. "I'm ok, Will. Just need a shower."

"Why the clothes?" he asked, brow furrowing.

She shrugged, "Until I move up a floor, I'm sharing a bathroom with whoever else comes to visit."

"Oh. Want company?" He wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously, causing a raucous laugh to escape her lips.

"No, thanks."

"Thank God." His smile was sheepish. "I don't think I could go again yet."

Nothing happened as she walked to the bathroom, which was probably for the best as Abby mulled over her next move. Previous experience with Will made her wary of taking the lead; they enjoyed themselves at the time but then came the guilt tripping, or fishing for an ego massage that she just didn't have the energy to give. 

"You're up late," said Magnus, her back against the door. She smiled and Abby's insides flip flopped in a pool of warmth that, recently, only she could encourage. Tonight, everything about Magnus screamed sex - her tousled hair, her smokey eye make up, the clingy, low cut v-neck that shouldn't be so enticing but made Abby's fingers itch to touch. And behind the smoke and black of her make up, Magnus' eyes sparkled, as if she knew exactly what Abby had been doing only ten minutes earlier.

All Abby could do was blink for a second before nodding, busying her hands with her toiletry bag. "We were…" Her voice faded away as her cheeks flushed red.

Magnus nodded, faux serious. "I see." Abby watched, entranced, as Magnus meandered over to her, taking three seemingly languid steps to cross the bathroom. She stopped just within Abby's personal space, close enough to touch, and how Abby wanted to. She wanted so much to touch her hair, her skin, her lips. Would she be as commanding in private as she was in public? "I'm surprised you can walk alone after such a… session."

Abby rolled her eyes and turned away, muttering, "I wouldn't call it a session." Looking into the mirror, she saw the smirk on Magnus' face, her own eyebrow arching in response before she dissolved into a giggle fit.

Magnus smiled, wrapping her arms around Abby's waist, resting her cheek on Abby's shoulder. "You sound wonderful when you laugh." Her tone was two parts warmth, one part wistful, surprising Abby almost as much as Magnus' fingers finding that sliver of stomach unencumbered by her nightclothes. They were warm against her skin, Magnus' perfectly manicured middle finger drawing light circles around her belly button; Abby almost regretted not having her piercing in. Her eyes slid shut as warm arousal started unfurling through her, her breath catching in her throat. "I had best let you freshen up."

"You don't have to go." Abby looked at Magnus' reflection, the calculating part of her personality shining in her eyes as she analysed Abby's words. All Abby could do was hope, and wait.

In the end, Magnus nodded, saying, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be," before capturing Abby's lips with her own, her hands cradling Abby's jaw and neck. With delight coursing through her veins, she kissed Magnus back, thrilled when Magnus stroked a feather light finger along her spine, pushing Abby's t-shirt up and further away from her pyjama pants.

She didn't know what to do with her hands - this was Helen Magnus, kissing her, caressing her, tugging her t-shirt over her head. All Abby could do was breathe raggedly; she doubted she'd be able to remember her name after this. Magnus' lips trailed along her jaw to her ear. She whispered, her voice low and honeyed, "I'm not made of glass, Abby. I would suggest touching me."

Barely believing her luck, Abby trailed her fingers up Magnus' body, from hip to shoulder, skittering past the outside of her breast. She wanted each second to last a lifetime, wanted to draw the whole experience out, but Magnus' cool hand on her skin shot Abby's heart rate to supersonic. Her warm surprised squeak into Magnus' mouth made the older lady smile, an almost predatory light in her eyes. Could she wrap her legs around her boss? Would Magnus be ok with that?

"Weren't you having a shower?" she asked Abby innocently, her lips the complete opposite of the voice escaping them.

Swallowing, Abby murmured a faint, "I uh… yeah…"

"Come on," Magnus told her, grabbing her hand and dragging her into the massive shower stall. "Let's get you washed up."

With the warm water cascading down over her and Magnus' tongue sweeping up along her pussy to toy with her clit, Abby couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips. The tile was cold against her back, Magnus' mouth hot against her flesh, and Abby's nipples cried out for attention. She wanted to pinch them, or roll them, or beg Magnus for more. A split second decision and one hand grabbed her breast, the other on her pelvis, fingers digging in to stop her stroking Magnus' hair.

She could feel her orgasm building, everything tightening and pulling in as Magnus continued her onslaught, _With her tongue!_ How was she doing that, keeping her on the uphill climb, moving inexorably closer to what Abby knew would be one of the best orgasms she had ever experienced? How could Magnus keep going like that? 

Abby's pants filled the shower stall, little keening noises fluttering out from her lips anytime Magnus dragged her nails down Abby's ass and thighs. The smug chuckle when Abby's fingers dragged through Magnus' hair was almost drowned out by Abby's pants becoming full blown moans. She chanted the word _there_ over and over and--

Someone's fist slammed on the bathroom door. Eyes open, body screaming for relief, Abby looked down, her own hand between her legs.

"Abby? Are you alright?"

Flushing bright red, she yelled, "Just a minute!" hoping Magnus could hear the words over the roar of the shower. As quickly as she could, Abby finished washing, unable to quench the throb of arousal still pounding through her veins.

"There you are," said Magnus when Abby finally opened the door. Her eyes did that quick once over look thing Abby usually saw her do with Tesla before she said, "Drop off your things then follow me; I need your help with the arachnicorn."

Knowing there was nothing she could do but do as she said, Abby nodded and sighed internally. She'd finish that fantasy another time.


End file.
